Best Run Ever

How far?
How fast?
How’d I feel?
Runners are constantly assessing their performance.
Glance at enough running magazine covers and inevitably you’ll see an article that claims it can lead you to that elusive
Best.Run.Ever.
Certain runs stick out. It all came together. These are the BEST.

What was my best?

What even makes a run the best?

These are some that stand out in my mind.

I was 18 when I toed the line for my homecoming 5k. The previous day I had 2 AP science tests, an English quiz, organized the school pep rally, and helped to organize a dance that night. I stepped to the starting line mentally fried.
This was my last race on the home course. During the Summer I had planned an all out assault on the school record of 15:45 for 3.1 miles. But life got in the way. The tests, the events… I even realized that morning that my plastic bottomed track spikes would slip on our 60% Concrete course. So I bought new shoes with Rubber soles that morning. They were a size too small but I wore them anyway.
Too much going against me. I would run faster than last year’s somewhat disappointing 16:39, but I decided the record was out of reach.
So I just ran. I went out in around 4:50 and was all alone. I ran through 2 miles in about 10:00 and began to lap other runners. It was easy. Something special was happening. There was a HUGE crowd of people on the home field for homecoming. They weren’t there to watch me specifically, but they cheered loudly as I passed. I was having a moment.
I finished in 15:43. School record. Some runs are great for the experience.

I was 21 and had qualified provisionally for Nationals in my first indoor 1500 meter run. I had run one of the fastest times in D3 so far that season and I had several fast meets ahead to improve it.
Then I took ill. Turns out that if you run 80+ miles a week in the Maine winter you may get ill (3 winters in Maine, 3 bad bouts of flu. 3 for 3. My advice to all college bound high school seniors: go somewhere warm).
So heading into my final meet I needed to run a 2 second PR to qualify for Nationals. I mapped it out lap by lap. 31.2, 62.4, 1:03.6, 2:04.8… I was going to hit each split along the way and make it happen. No doubt in my mind. Whenever I second guessed myself my mind reverted right back to the splits: 31.2, 62.4…
I recited it in the dining hall.
The bathroom.
English class.
I knew my splits cold.
Race day came. SUPER fast start. Sub 60 for the quarter, 1:56 for the half (a PR!). I smashed through 1000 meters 3 seconds under the school record. I had 500 meters to go. I was in 4th.
Self doubt crept in.
Too fast too early.
You’ve been sick.
You’re not a track guy.
The field is too fast.
I fought back. I rallied.
I ran 3:52 high for 1500 meters. My personal best by 4 seconds.
Some runs are best for the speed.

I was 27 and drunk on the first floor of Clery’s. My friend left the main bar for the basement bar and I followed him.
I was drunk.
And woozy.
And clumsy.
I fell down the stairs.
Miraculously I didn’t hurt anything.
Later that night I was talking to a girl who I remember being as attractive one moment, less attractive the next. Like that Seinfeld Episode. I didn’t get a number, I didn’t get a name.

I did remember her saying she was running a race that was going off at 8 am the next morning near my apartment.  It was around 10 pm.

I staggered home around 2 am.
7 am the next morning. I was up and could not fall back asleep. I was a little hung over but not hurting too bad.
But I was up. No matter how tight I squeezed my eyes I was not falling back asleep.
What the hell, I thought? I’ll run this race and hopefully get a sober look at this girl.
She didn’t show up. Or maybe she did and I was THAT drunk.
But I won.
I Even got a Police escort as I ran uncontested down Comm Ave in Boston.
Many runners have won races. Some have won a race while somewhat inebriated. Some have gotten a Police escort. But winning a race while hung over, after falling down a flight of stairs and getting a Police Escort, who’s done that?
Some runs are the best story.

The Rock Run

2nd place at a race no one remembers, but it was magic!

I was 31 and running the Rock Run with some friends.
The Rock Run is a relay around the circumference of Nantucket. 50 miles, 5 legs, 5 runners.
We had 4.
One of our guys dropped out to be on another team. Benedict Arnold (we’re now friends).
So someone on my team was running 2 legs. I had the most speed but…
My teammate John was training for an Ironman. He could take the extra miles.
And if he couldn’t my teammate George ran ultras. He would take the miles, no problem.
So I ran the long leg: a 12 mile leg in unforgiving heat, in deep sand that caved away underneath your feet. We were up there in the front of the pack. I gave it everything.
My team stepped up as well. With one leg left we had a slight lead over the 5 man Benedict Arnold team.
John and George looked at me.
‘We need to beat them.’
‘You give us the best chance’
‘You got this.’
I reluctantly took the baton for the final 8 miles. I had a 2-3 minute lead. The sand was a little stiffer and I could run a little faster.
But I was being pursued by fresh legs.
Fresh legs that belonged to a High school runner who would go on to win the Florida state 2 mile championship that Spring.
My legs were not fresh.
Not even close.
Every once in a while I’d pass a beach goer and hear them clap politely. ‘Go Rock Run’.
Then I’d listen for them to clap for the next runner. The closer they were the sooner the clap would come.
For 5 miles there were no claps after mine.
And then I passed a nice little family on a deserted stretch of beach.
‘Go Rock Run!’ They clapped politely.
Then about :15 seconds passed. And they clapped again. ‘Go get him.’
Sell outs.
Side note- If you look over your shoulder you’re lunch meat.
If you want to judge how close someone behind you is listen for their cheers.
I was losing ground. I was running on rotten legs. I was hurting.
But I was having fun. And when I’m having fun I’m hard to beat.
I had to dig deep but I hung in and held him off by about :08 seconds.
Sometimes the best runs are slow and painful, but fun.

I was 17 and I went for an 8 mile training run. This was before modern work out gear, wicking, rain resistant jackets. We wore cotton.
When I left the house it was cloudy and probably around 35 degrees outside.
A mile in it began to rain. Just a mist, kind of pleasant actually, but enough to soak through my cotton sweatshirt over the next 7 miles.
The temperature dropped. The misty rain became flurries of snowflakes. The moisture froze on the tree branches. I can still see the tall pine trees that lined the side of Oak street, shimmering with new formed ice.
When I got home my cotton sweatshirt was frozen stiff. I had to punch it to break up the ice before I could take it off.
I tried to tell friends how cool this all was later on but they just shrugged and said ‘running sucks’.
No one understood.
‘The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner’ is a thing, I decided.
Some runs are the best because they’re magic, but don’t expect anyone to understand.

I’ve had many other fast runs, many runs that created a moment, a story, or were just plain fun. There were great runs in my teens, my twenties and now my thirties.
With a few magical runs sprinkled in as well.
But when asked which one is the best I borrow Stevie Wonder’s answer to the question ‘What’s the best song you’ve ever written.’
Stevie: ‘I haven’t written it yet’.
And he wrote ‘As’.

What’s my best run?

I haven’t run it yet.